Burning Ambition
by AbyssalCaesar
Summary: SPOILERS! Pre-Path of Radiance. Ashnard's final day as a prince of Daein. His own family is consumed by his insatiable lust for power as the Mad King himself dreams of the utopia he will burn across Tellius when the crown is his.


**Ashnard is evil. This is indisputable. However for all his evil the type of world he advocates actual has some sense behind it, certainly when compared to say Begnion. He certainly made for a great main antagonist in FE9 possibly only surpassed by Nergal from FE7.**

**This story will document how this man came to become king of Daein and is set during Ashanrd's final day as a prince. Most of the information about his usurpation comes from his wife Almedha in Radiant Dawn, FE10, so that is where I have drawn inspiration from in terms of the basic plotline. As always I hope you enjoy and reviews are appreciated. **

* * *

"Can you hear me dearest brother?" Ashnard asked in mock concern over the, only just deceased, corpse of one of his elder brothers. Upon not receiving a reply Ashnard lifted the blanket over Tarlon's head and bowed his head in mourning as was the established custom.

In happier times the room would have been filled with weeping family members and fawning servants all wailing in tearful reverence for the deceased. Servants had no choice in the matter of mourning their master regardless of the treatment they had received while their master had been alive. As it was Ashnard was the sole mourner and stood for but a couple of seconds before he stalked out of the room and ordered two servants in to take the body for immediate cremation.

Cremation was believed by the terrified populace of Daein to be the only way of halting the virulent plague that had ravaged much of Daein. Ashnard knew better for he was the only person in all of Daein who knew the true nature of the curse he himself had unleashed upon the kingdom. Nothing could stop its spread but if the people wanted to delude themselves then they were free to do so as far as he was concerned.

Ashnard strode down the corridor to where Tarlon's wife lay bedridden with the same affliction. Ashnard looked on it as irredeemable proof of his brother's weakness that his wife had outlasted him. His wife would soon join him though. Already two servants waited outside the room and Ashnard didn't even knock as he walked into the darkened room.

"Your husband is dead." He stated bluntly doing his best to keep a grin from his face.

The feeble moaning that answered him from the bed was so pathetic Ashnard knew that by all rights she must surely be near the end also. However, Ashnard had witnessed the curse's unpredictability, intended to confuse those looking to study the symptoms, and knew that a person who was afflicted with the curse one day could spend a whole week bedridden before dying whereas seemingly healthy individuals could drop dead instantly. It had surprised Ashnard immensely when on the fifth day after invoking the Blood Contract he had been out riding with one of his brothers when the man had fallen from the saddle stone dead; felled in a matter of seconds

Ashnard walked over to the bed and looked down on the woman in the bed. The most alarming and obvious symptom caused by the Blood Contract was that the veins of the victim pulsed with a glowing red light. The exact nature of the pulse varied between individuals with some having short sharp bursts while others experienced a constant throbbing light beneath their skin. The brother who had died riding had died in a single blinding burst of light from within him which made Ashnard think at first that an assassin had attacked with fire magic. The subsequent lack of burning flesh convinced Ashnard otherwise.

Tarlon's wife had a dull light running through her veins although the light, Ashnard had discovered through much observation, was no indicator of how long a person had left to live. Deciding he'd rather not wait, Ashnard asked the dying woman a question, "Do you want to see your husband?"

The poor woman managed to nod.

Ashnard propped Tarlon's wife up into a sitting position, subtly slipping her pillow from under her as he did so.

"Good seems fitting you be cremated together."

Ashnard pushed his brother's wife back down onto the bed and placed the pillow over her face. He only needed to exert a tiny fraction of his godly strength before the rattling gasps from beneath the pillow stopped. There hadn't even been a struggle.

Having readjusted the bed back to how it had been before he had entered, Ashnard walked to the door to beckon the servants in. To his mild amusement he found one had dropped dead whilst he'd been in the room.

Ashnard stepped over the servant's body without a glance and ordered the clearly shaken survivor to go get help to remove the bodies. Ashnard marched off without a backward glance doing a mental check over how many members of his family were left. First and foremost there was his father, the 12th King of Daein. Ashnard would save him for last. Then there was his eldest brother Carlyle and his wife and daughter. There was also the young son of the brother who had died riding. Ashnard's patience was wearing thin and so he resolved that five deaths could easily be achieved in a day.

By the end of the day all opposition between him and the throne would be eliminated. His entire family would be dead and the kingdom of Daein would be Ashanrd's to rule and Ashnard's alone.

Ashnard was snapped from his machinations by the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning round Ashnard saw the young son of one of his dead brothers.

"Ah it's you. You're Trahn's son? Or is it Sarpedon's?" Ashnard vainly struggled to remember whose child the little brat was.

"I'm Trahn's son uncle Ashnard sir. My name's Gervan."

Ashanrd feigned realisation. "Ah of course Gervan, I remember you! And how do you fare this day?"

A look of sadness crossed Gervan's young features. "As well as can be expected seeing as my family is all dead," he whimpered.

Ashnard put on his best comforting face and put his arm around the boy. "Not all your family," he consoled, "I'm still here aren't I?"

Gervan nodded.

"See I'll take care of you. It's what your father would have wanted." Ashnard began shepherding the boy towards a door. "Walk with me if you would be so kind."

"Of course uncle," Gervan said as Ashnard led the boy through a door leading out onto the castle's battlements. Snow whirled around in flurries and the chill of the Daein winter was ferocious. Already ice crystals were clinging to Ashnard's ebon armour and Gervan was shivering.

Ashnard walked over to the battlements and looked down over them. This part of the enormous Daein' castle was built onto the side of a mountain and far below the battlements were nothing but jagged rocks. In warmer weather a powerful waterfall flowed past the battlements but it had long frozen as the icy claws of winter had encroached across the country.

"Stand with me Gervan." Ashnard asked well naturedly. The boy did so, his body trembling from the cold.

"Tell me Gervan do you miss your parents?" Ashnard asked softly.

"Of course uncle," Gervan said quietly.

"I miss them too." Ashnard put his arm once more around the small boy. "Although not as much as I'm going to miss you!"

Gervan didn't fully comprehend what Ashnard had said at first. By the time he had realised it was too late and before he could even cry for help he found himself falling through the howling blizzard, the jagged rocks rushing towards him. The last image he had was of Ashnard's face poking over the battlements, a demonic grin plastered across his "loving" uncle's features.

* * *

Back in the warmth of the castle Ashnard went searching for his last brother; the eldest and heir to the Daein throne. Now bedridden and, Ashnard hoped, on the verge of death, Carlyle was the main obstacle remaining between Ashnard and dominion over all Daein.

Their relationship had never been a good one with Carlyle favouring a much less aggressive foreign policy to Ashnard and always viewing Ashnard as something of a vile, young brute. This level of contempt was strongly returned by Ashnard who saw his brother as a potentially weak ruler who'd lead Daein into ruin.

Ashnard knocked on the large wooden door that led to his brother's room and waited. A short while later an attractive woman with long flowing black hair opened the door. Her face was streaked with tears. Ashnard bowed his head solemnly.

"Greetings Lady Ara how fares my noble brother?"

At this question the woman before him burst into wretched, breathless sobs. Ashnard walked past her and entered the room.

The ominous red glow from the bed identified it as his brother's current resting place. At the side of the bed was a girl in her late teens with hair like her mother's; Carlyle's daughter Isobel and the most precious thing in the world to her doting father. She was kneeling by her father and holding his hand her demeanour and features were far more composed than her hysterical mother.

"Such strength of character," Ashnard murmured to himself.

Ashnard walked over to the bed and placed his hand on the girl's shoulder. She shook him off.

"Should have known you'd skulk in here Ashnard" she muttered bitterly. "Come to see my father off have you? How many of your brothers are left? How many have you sacrificed in the name of ambition?"

Ashnard tensed. "How on earth does this mere girl even have the faintest clue about my plans?" He wondered. Ashnard vowed she'd regret her accusations.

"What on earth or you babbling about my dear?" he answered sweetly, "your baseless slander is upsetting my brother who I merely wanted to see. I did not expect to be so insulted for my kindness!"

"Kindness!" Isobel practically exploded. "How can you call invoking a curse on Daein kindness? Yes that's right Ashnard I know what you've done. I've seen the mark on yours and the king's arm. You think as a girl I'm too busy helping around the home to go to the library and look up a thing or two?"

Ashnard narrowed his eyes into venomous slits and a malevolent grimace spread across his features. He grabbed her by the arm and whispered into her ear. "Watch how you address your future king!" he snarled, "Now get out of my sight and fill your head with more fictitious drivel."

At that moment Ara ran forward and grabbed Isobel. She shepherded her protesting daughter into her bedroom and closed the door. She turned back to face Ashnard tears still running freely.

"Please don't listen to her Ashnard," Ara practically pleaded, "she doesn't know what she's saying."

Ashnard nodded his head in an understanding fashion. "Of course not", he answered, "she's just upset that is all. We are all upset at this terrible time. Now could I have a word with my brother?"

Ara nodded and left the room by the same door her daughter had.

Ashnard convinced he was now alone pulled up a chair and sat by his brother who turned his sunken eyes to look at him. His voice was a hollow whisper which rasped in his throat. Carlyle's first words came as a shock to Ashnard.

"She's right though isn't she Ashnard?" he croaked. "You have brought this curse upon Daein."

Ashnard decided there was little point hiding the truth from his brother. Ashnard could easily finish him off personally if need be. More to the point though was who could Carlyle tell who'd actually believe him and act upon his word? There was no one left he could turn to. Ashnard was the only brother left and the king himself rarely saw anyone, even his own family.

"Your daughter is very bright isn't she." Ashnard observed, "To think it was a little girl who put all the pieces together. Tragic isn't it. If she'd kept quiet I would not be forced to harm her."

Carlyle sat bolt upright but the effort made him cough uncontrollably and Ashnard pushed him back down onto the bed.

"Hush now brother, save your strength!" Ashnard chuckled.

Carlyle managed to find his voice. "Please I beg you to leave my family alone. They're not an obstacle to you; surely they can continue to live here unharmed?"

"Hmm perhaps you are right. You're the only one I actually need dead after all. Very well brother I guarantee no harm will come to your family at my hands. Besides my wife has a soft spot for your wife and daughter so she would hardly approve of me killing them."

"Is the Lady Almedha in on this vile conspiracy as well?"

"Not as such." Ashnard replied. "She figured it all out. I was very impressed. Still she wouldn't betray her loving husband would she and also why would she protest? She'll be queen of Daein before long. She does share a certain degree of my ambition after all, indeed that is what drew her to me I think."

Carlyle let out a long, world weary sigh. "Why Ashnard?" he asked sadly. "Why have you done this to your own people, your own family?"

Ashnard sat there in silence before he answered. "You may see me as a mere opportunistic usurper but I assure you there is more to me than that."

"Well enlighten me then brother. All I see when I look at you is a demon purporting at being a human."

"Oh I am a demon, brother. In that I detest the sickly order that is imposed on our world and wish to unleash a maelstrom of chaos to free all beings from it."

Carlyle looked deeply confused so Ashnard continued.

"I'll start with the crown that sits on our father's head, Carlyle. Why does he wear it?"

"He is the king."

"And why is he the king."

"He was born to fill that position as the eldest son of the last king. That is how tradition has always dictated it."

"And that brother," Ashnard said with manic glee, "is what is wrong with the world!"

"I do not understand?"

"You wouldn't. You're the eldest. Entitled to everything from the moment you come wailing into the world."

"You have destroyed Daein because you are bitter about being the youngest? That is truly pathetic."

"No!" Ashnard roared. "I have destroyed Daein to make it stronger!"

"Your logic betrays your madness Ashnard. Do you know the death toll has reached nearly a quarter of the population?"

"I do and they are all necessary sacrifices in order to get me into power."

"This is all about your own personal ambition then. You want nothing more than power."

"No!" Ashnard snarled again. "You are wrong."

"Well tell me then Ashnard what it is I am missing because right now I just want to die if it means getting me out of this conversation with an absolute madman."

Ashnard took a deep breath, composed himself and began to explain.

"What right does our father have to wear the crown? None save the fact he was born into a position where it would pass to him. Did he have to work for his role? Did he have to prove himself the best of all men in order to inherit the position? The answer is of course he didn't."

Ashnard stood up and paced across the room to gaze out of the window that overlooked the capital city of Nevassa.

"And if we look elsewhere, the peasant, strong of body and of spirit has to play subservient to the impudent landlord who owns the land simply because his father owned it before him. Or if we look at our army, is it led by soldiers who are in charge because they are the strongest or because they are of noble birth and able to buy the most impressive armour and weapons. The conclusion one can draw brother is that society is a twisted mess with no reflection of how nature breeds us to live."

Ashnard turned back towards the bed. Carlyle remained silent but his eyes implored Ashnard to continue.

"It is nature's way that the strong should rule the weak and that the weak should serve or perish. We live in a world where the weak recline on the broken backs of those who ought to be their masters. Look at the festering decadence of Begnion. That is the miserable state of affairs that awaits Daein if I do not change it."

Carlyle stiffened, "We will never be like those imperial dogs." He uttered with defiance.

"We will if I don't stop it." Ashnard retorted. "Now I expect you want me to tell you what I'll do differently."

Carlyle nodded. "Go on"

"I will bring about a new kind of society; one where the king is the strongest of all men and sits atop a hierarchy based on merit, strength and prowess. I shall create a new order where everyone has a chance to gain power if they are strong enough to wield it."

Ashnard grinned from ear to ear at the thought of the utopia he would dictate.

"Do you not see my weak brother that this is the goal all living creatures should aspire towards? The ascent towards power by using one's own strength alone to subjugate the weak and annihilate rivals. It should be our goal as individuals to relentlessly keep doing this until one can climb no further and falls into their natural place in the hierarchy. Loyalty to others and adherence morals only serves to prevent us from attaining our ultimate position as the best individuals we can be."

"Your line of thinking is dangerously like a sub-human's."

"The sub-humans have some of the right idea in terms of their recognition of strength. Their problem is that they are far too bound by loyalty to their tribe to realise their true potential."

There was a long period of deathly silence in the room and Ashnard began to wonder whether Carlyle had died. Then his brother spoke to him for what would be the last time.

"Ashnard I am resigned to my death and while it pains me that you are responsible and I despise you with all my heart I am still your brother and I feel it my duty to give you some advice."

Ashnard lent in and let his brother take hold of his hand.

"I loved Daein, Ashnard. I've always loved Daein and I beg of you that when you are king you only do what is best for Daein. You mustn't lead our country to ruin, promise me- no swear on your own life, as that is all that matters to you, that you will rule our country well and keep it great."

Ashnard lent in and whispered. "Oh, I'll do more than that dearest brother. I'll make this country so much greater than you can even comprehend!"

Ashnard stood and walked towards the door. Carlye still had a few parting words though.

"Ashnard, your ambition will make you great and powerful, of this I have no doubt, but your ambition is an inferno and one day it will consume you and your dreams and reduce them to ash."

Ashnard took a last look back at his dying brother. "Then the world will burn, brother. The world will burn."

* * *

Ashnard stood outside the room with his ear pressed to the wood. He was listening for the inevitable. When the anticipated wailing began, signalling his brother's departure, Ashnard strode back into the room.

The sheer loathing and contempt with which Isobel looked at him would have withered a lesser man. Carlyle's wife stood by the bed, weeping, her face gazing at the floor. In the bed Carlyle was still, the last traces of the Blood Contract's glow fading from his lifeless body.

Ashnard walked over to the bed and reached out to lay a hand on his dead brother.

"Don't you dare touch him murderer!" Isobel snarled, running at Ashnard with a wickedly sharp hairpin.

Effortlessly Ashnard backhanded her across the face and sent her sprawling. Bending down, he hauled her to her feet by her long hair, causing her to cry out and drop the hairpin. Pulling her close to him he forced her to gaze up into his eyes.

"Attempting to harm a member of the royal family is treason. I'd hate to have to break my promise to my brother."

"And what about the members of the royal family you've killed Ashnard? Or are you the only one worthy of protection?" She spat in his face.

Ashnard threw back his head and laughed "I need no protection stupid girl! But you are right; I am the only one worthy." Ashnard forced her to her knees and let go of her hair.

"Beg for my mercy wench."

"Never," Isobel snarled defiantly.

"My brother would be so disappointed by your foolishness but you leave me no choice."

Ashnard picked up the hairpin and drove it deep into his arm without flinching. Then he stomped over to the door and waved in a couple of loyal guards.

"This girl attempted to murder me." He said calmly pointing at the wound he had just inflicted. "This gives me reason to suspect she is behind the deaths in the royal family with the end intention of seizing the throne."

The guards immediately grabbed Isobel and roughly dragged her away while she protested her innocence. As she passed Ashnard he whispered, "You had a chance."

A sudden sob drew Ashland's attention back to the only other occupant of the room. Lady Ara had been so silent throughout the whole encounter that Ashnard had almost forgotten her.

"Please," she whispered in a voice that was so world-weary and tired Ashnard almost felt a pang of pity, "spare my daughter."

Ashnard walked over to a small table in the room and placed a small vial on it.

Ara seemed to understand instinctively the choice Ashnard was giving her and nodded.

Ashnard walked out of the room and waited once more for the Grim Reaper to do his work.

A few minutes later Ashnard re-entered the room. Ara had moved and now lay on the bed embracing her dead husband with her eyes closed. On the table the vial stood empty.

Ashnard left the room and walked off to the dungeons to visit his niece.

* * *

The same fiery defiance was still in her eyes despite the dire nature of her circumstances. The plate of food she had been given lay untouched and she spat through the bars at Ashnard as he stood grinning in at her.

"Your mother is dead." He said his voice devoid of sadness. "The cause of that particular death is yours alone."

A look of deep sorrow passed across Isobel's face before it quickly subsided into anger.

"You'd have disposed of us sooner or later. As if I'm naïve enough to believe you'd keep your promise to my father and never harm us. Go on then uncle if you've come to kill me then go ahead."

Ashnard chuckled menacingly, "Oh I don't think I'll kill you. Indeed I know someone who I'm sure will find far more creative uses for you."

For the first time a small glimmer of fear crossed her face. She clearly hadn't expected anything other than a quick execution and the fear of what else Ashnard had devised for her had immediately begun to gnaw at her.

"I do not fear your craven sycophants."

"Believe me my dear when I say you should fear this one. Izuka meet your new test subject. Isobel meet your new master."

Izuka shuffled forward out of the shadows. His beady eyes roved Isobel's body and he scuttled up and down in front of the cage like a colossal insect. Izuka's unethical experiments had landed him in prison but Ashnard had intervened citing the degenerate as too clever and amoral to just let rot in a cell, unused.

"Hmm I do not see directly how she might prove useful in my research."

Ashnard put a heavy hand on Izuka's shoulder and began humming to himself.

"B-b-but that doesn't mean I won't think of something . I shall not squander the knowledge I can gain from her."

"Research," Isobel gasped horrified, "I am Daein royalty!"

"So was your father," Ashnard chortled.

Izuka entered the cage with two of his men. Isobel hissed and fought savagely against them but they were too strong and soon had her arms firmly tied behind her back. Izuka fixed a collar around her neck and attached a rope to it. She continued to struggle but she was eventually dragged from the cell.

As she was led down the dimly lit corridor, Ashnard finally saw her crack. She pleaded with Ashnard but still found it below her dignity to do him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"A bit late for that don't you think?" Ashnard replied sarcastically. "Enjoy your new life my dear. If the research should prove useful to me I may pop in and see you sometime. Although I doubt you'll last long. Give my regards to Carlyle and tell him I'm sorry for breaking my promise to him!"

Isobel slumped to the ground and howled a sort of primal cry of desperation. Izuka began hopping impatiently and ordered the guards to pull her to her feet. As Ashnard turned to go Isobel called after him and he could hear the spark of rage and defiance reigniting.

"May you rot in hell for all eternity!" she screeched. Ashnard heard her beginning to thrash against her captors again despite the futility of it.

Ashnard ignored her jibe. He didn't believe in hell but he knew that where Isobel was going was a close as made no difference.

* * *

Walking through the silent castle, steeped in sorrow and death, Ashnard finally arrived at his final destination as a mere prince. There were meant to be guards at the entrance to the throne room but most able bodied soldiers had been made to assist throughout Daein in the disposal of bodies and the perseveration of public order.

Ashnard turned to face his wife, Almedha, who stood lingering in the flickering shadows cast by a torch. Her face was awash with conflicting emotions. She was afraid; afraid of the Blood Pact, afraid of the future and most of all afraid of him. Then there was a strange sense of pride in her about her husband's actions as if her decision to court Ashnard had finally yielded results. Most wonderful of all, from Ashnard's point of view, though was the ambition she felt. A mere fraction of Ashnard's but still the hunger for power was there.

"She can have her power," Ashnard thought to himself, "once she provides me with a truly extraordinary heir."

"Come over hear." Ashnard called to her.

Almedha obeyed and stood in front of her husband and met his intense gaze with one of her own.

"Is it time?" she asked, taking his hands in hers.

"Indeed it is. By the end of today I shall be king and you shall be my queen."

"Well then my husband, do what needs to be done."

"I will but first you must gain me access to the throne room. My father hates me and won't even look at me but I do believe he is rather fond of you."

"Very well." Almedha walked over to the throne room door and knocked. "Your majesty it's Almedha, may I enter?"

There was a long silence and Ashnard wondered if he'd have to force an entrance when he heard a shuffling noise on the other side of the door indicating something, at least, still lived in there.

Ashnard skulked off into a dark corner and hid. The door opened and his father, now wearing every one of his eighty or so years, appeared. His skin was withered and thin and his body was skeletal. The golden crown of Daein perched on his head of wispy, unkempt, white hair. He beckoned Almedha into the room and the two disappeared inside it.

Ashnard moved quickly across the stone floor with the impatience and hunger of a wild beast. Removing his sword, Gurgarant, from where he had hidden it earlier, Ashnard placed his hands on the double wooden doors and pushed. To his joy Almedha had left them unlocked.

Ashnard strode into the throne room. The king rose from where he'd just re-seated himself on the throne and the two guards on either side of him looked visibly stunned by Ashnard's dramatic entrance. Almedha began backing away into a corner and lowered her head in resignation for what was about to happen.

"I told you I didn't want to see you, Ashnard." The king's fists were clenched and his voice was taut with anger.

"You would turn away your last son?"

"They're dead? You are all that's left?" He said with searing contempt.

"That is right father." Ashnard replied innocently

"You blackheart, you've killed them all. I ought to have had you drowned at birth."

"All of this is your doing father. Had you read that document before signing it none of this would have happened."

Ashnard rolled back his right sleeve and showed his father the mark of the Blood Pact. His father did the same and glowered at his own mark. The visible symbol of his folly.

"You deceived your own father. What kind of son does that make you?"

"The kind that is going to succeed you."

"To think I'd actually leave the throne to you? I'd rather die than see you lead Daein into ruin."

Ashnard laughed and drew Gurgarant. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The king's two guards immediately dashed forward to intercept Ashnard. They drew their own weapons and faced off against him.

It was over in seconds. The first swing of Gurgarant bisected one man at the waist and the second blow obliterated the other man's head. Blood spilt over the floor and Ashnard advanced through the puddles towards the throne.

He grabbed the hem of the king's long red cloak and pulled it. The king was pulled down off the throne and fell in a heap at Ashnard's feet.

"Daein my beloved country, I am sorry to leave you held captive by this demon I have spawned." The king pulled his cloak over his head.

Ashnard raised Gurgarant above his head and with a primal roar of triumph brought the sword down.

The blood of the dead king spattered across his face but Ashnard didn't wipe it away. Instead he rummaged through his cloak until he found the Blood Contract that had helped bring him to his point. He tore the seemingly harmless piece of paper apart and watched as the magic power of the pact burnt the scraps of paper to nothing. Ashnard glanced down at his arm and saw the mark of the contract fade away forever.

To be certain he then pulled his dead father out from under the cloak and checked his arm. The mark had gone. Ashnard's eyes caught a glint of something gold and he reached down to pick up the crown of Daein, now coated in blood.

Cackling manically Ashnard crushed the crown until it was nothing more than a battered and warped piece of metal. He had no need for a crown, a crown was simply a way for a monarch to falsely display strength and power they didn't actually have or deserve. Ashnard's power and strength were self-evident and he needed no trinket to justify his legitimacy. He was the greatest of all men. His ambition and peerless force would lead him to triumph time and time again. Ashnard, the 13th King of Daein, would burn his name into history for all eternity.


End file.
